


Dream About The Sun

by suyari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M, McCall Pack, Sciles, Survival, True Alpha Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst part of all of it was the fact that the wolves kept sacrificing themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream About The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr.

Stiles scuffs the toe of his canvas sneaker against a rock and tries to resist the urge to look again. Wherever Scott's run off to, he's not likely to see it at the speed his best friend moves these days. And he's not keen to see a zombie horde shambling his way any time soon. Necessity mandates he look at least once every twenty minutes, but he doubts anything is going to sneak up on him on the precarious ledge Scott has left him upon.

He reminds himself that Scott is just protective and that with the rest of the pack caught on the other side of the divide, he's become sole focus of an Alpha's nervous attention. Scott _cares_ for people, that's what he does. It's who he's always been. Ever since the outbreak though...

He bites his lip and shakes his head to clear the images. They'd both had family among the first responders and it hurt too much to think about now. Instead, he sits and swings his legs over the side of the ledge. If he has to be stuck with anyone, he's glad it's Scott. They're best friends, always have been, always will be. Even though Scott spends most of his time in wolf mode on high alert now, he's still inside, and present when it counts. He still laughs at Stiles' jokes and smiles when he attempts to lighten the mood. But he keeps him close when it's dark and wraps around him full bodied and tight at night.

Werewolves are immune. They'd learned that early when Isaac had sacrificed himself to save Allison and managed to walk away shaking and bleeding profusely, but uninfected. They'd all been relieved. Of course, those of them who weren't wolves still suffered from mild heart attacks every time the wolves engaged and came back injured. Just because they couldn't be infected didn't mean the zombies didn't _try._

He hadn't known werewolves could scar. Apparently, neither had they. They survived the attacks just fine, but something about particularly brutal ones left weird grooves in their skin. There wasn't a one of them without them now, and Stiles and the others could name every scar, every scare with surprising detail and accuracy.

He looks up and scans the horizon, hoping to see Scott. He doesn't and sighing, looks around for zombies.

The worst part of all of it was the fact that the wolves kept sacrificing themselves. Whenever one of them was sick or injured or just too drained to move quickly enough, suddenly there was a werewolf in front of you, taking the attack full force. They fought back, and they never left a wolf alone, but it was horrifying every time.

To make matters worse, whenever they had Stiles in their line of sight, it was always Scott who ended up suffering the brunt of it. Oh there were times the others would get in the way, but as Alpha, more times than not, Scott ordered the pack to keep moving and leave him behind.

Generally, one or two wolves moved just enough to satisfy the need to obey, and then remained, steadfast and mildly defiant, to come to his rescue. Scott never said anything to them, so they never had reason to not disobey. Stiles thinks it's something only wolves understand. Because he's tried and failed hundreds of times. And Lydia shrugs whenever he asks her. Of course, Lydia has other problems, as do they, given the presence of the dead cause her to scream nearly as often as imminent death and they've lost the ability to tell the difference. But, it helps keep them moving, which keeps Lydia sane and that's all that really maters. Even if sometimes, Stiles can't sleep at night.

He's tried to convince Scott that he needn't feel so _responsible_ for everyone. He's just one person and he couldn't fight off zombie hordes alone, no matter how much time and distance it granted his pack or anyone. But Scott always replies that he's Alpha. As if the title alone is some strange oath to the world.

Stiles knows Scott struggles every moment with it. Feeding everyone and keeping them safe and knowing he could save them by turning them, but that it could also backfire and kill them. He protects them all from one horror, and refuses to expose them to any other.

It's always been Stiles' job to patch him up when a need presents itself. And unfortunately, all he can do is remind Scott that for now, they're with them. Alive and safe and _free_ and that he'd do best to remember that, to live in the moment and not make himself sick with what ifs and could bes. He does enough of that with the past. He doesn't need it murking up his future.

Someone has to soothe the Alpha. Scott can't be on all the time. But, Stiles has known him forever and knows he will damn well try. He sighs and leans back into his hands. There are days he could just shake Scott.

He nearly falls off the ledge as a figure drops down suddenly. Scott's arms go about him, drawing him back into his body as he drops down into the space behind him.

"You nearly scared me to death!" Stiles gasps, one hand over his heart and the other desperately clutching Scott's forearm.

"Sorry," Scott replies, voice garbled slightly by his fangs.

"Any luck?"

Scott heaves a sigh. "Not tonight."

"That's why God invented soup cans," Stiles soothes, snuggling back and willing his heart to slow. "And gave us the foresight to saturate them with salt."

Scott snorts and rests his chin to Stiles' shoulder. Stiles can practically _feel_ his disappointment at not being able to hunt up something fresh to eat. So he kicks up his legs, crosses them at the ankles and promptly delves into the sordid lives of the squirrels Scott left him with for half a day. After all, if he has to be bored out of his skull for his own protection, then Scott damn well has to hear about it.

From the way Scott envelopes him and pays rapt attention, Stiles isn't exactly sure he minds.


End file.
